


i love you

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (only those close to them know because y'know security), Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sally Donovan Appreciation, Secret Relationship, emotional mycroft, greg's been promoted so they're at a party, they love each other and i'm emotional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 18:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13393929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: A part of him is afraid of saying ‘I love you’ so much that it becomes automatic, and lacks any sentiment whatsoever.However, Greg says it to him all the time and not once does it ever lose its magic or meaning.





	i love you

 

 

> sometimes  
>  i stop myself from   
>  saying the words out loud  
>  as if leaving my mouth too often  
>  might wear them down
> 
> _-i love you_
> 
> _(_ Rupi Kaur, _the sun and her flowers_ )

 

 

Mycroft’s eyes are focussed on the opposite side of the room, right by the door. Gregory is right there, champagne flute in hand, in animated conversation with a woman that Mycroft has never seen before. 

He feels… _off_. 

There’s something wrong and he can’t figure out what exactly it is. He watches Greg’s facial expressions with intensity, his smile, his laughter lines. 

He’s glorious and Mycroft’s heart contracts at the sight. The sheer warmth in Greg’s eyes, _his_ Gregory, is enough to add years onto his life. 

At that moment, Greg’s head turns and his eyes search out Mycroft’s face.  Mycroft’s breath catches in his throat when Greg looks directly at him, that familiar gentle smile that was always just for _him_ crosses his face, seemingly oblivious that the unfamiliar woman is still talking to him. 

Despite Mycroft’s sudden uneasiness, he feels his lips naturally curving into a smile for Greg. When Greg winks at him, his heartbeat quickens, and he can feel the warmth of a blush cross his cheeks. 

A few seconds later, Greg is facing the woman again, being drawn back into conversation. 

 

Mycroft starts at the unexpected squeeze on his arm, his head whips around to find none other than Sally Donovan smiling up at him, amusement clear on her face. 

“You love him.” Her voice is surprisingly gentle, remarkably different from when they first met. 

One result of his relationship with Gregory had been getting to know this exceptional woman, who at the end of the day cared deeply for Greg. He saw her often and she was never afraid to speak her mind, even to him, and Mycroft found that refreshing. 

Mycroft gave a brief nod, saying nothing. 

“It’s good of you to be here tonight, pretty sure you’ve made his day.” Her eyes were shining as she took a sip of her champagne. “He didn’t think you’d be back from Brussels.” 

Mycroft hummed, frowning slightly. “I fear Gregory’s main concern was that I’d loathe to stand in a room and make polite conversation with irrelevant members of the Metropolitan Police.”

Sally snorted, “He didn’t happen to mention that to me.”

“Nor to me, but I know Gregory.”

“I’m not disputing that fact.” Sally said conversationally, “But I know it’s important for him to have you here for this.” 

“Despite the fact that he cannot introduce me as who I am to him.” Mycroft took this moment to take a sip from his champagne.

It was remarkably bitter and horribly cheap. Gregory deserved better. 

He noticed Sally’s smile falter, so he continued.  “Nevertheless, I would never want to miss seeing him being promoted.” 

“He loves you, you know?” There was an undercurrent note of urgency in her voice and Mycroft raised a brow. 

“I was aware.” 

Sally shook her head, “He talks about you like you put the sun in the sky. If it wasn’t for security reasons, I know he would tell everyone about your relationship.” 

Mycroft shifted uneasily, “Not only would that put him in danger, but it would also risk his position in the force” 

He frowned, glancing across the room again and seeing a group of men surrounding Greg, shaking hands. “He’s worked far too hard for this to be ruined by his association with me.” 

Sally shot him a sympathetic smile, her hand was on his arm again, and Mycroft felt uneasy. 

He was uncomfortable being touched by others that were not Gregory. 

“You’ve both got each other though, that counts.” 

Mycroft closed his eyes and nodded, “It’s all that matters- _he’s_ all that matters at the end of the day.” 

“He knows this?” Sally watches him carefully, and there’s an intensity to her expression that dredges up the uneasiness in his chest from earlier. 

“I should certainly hope so.” Mycroft’s tone is clipped and Sally seems unperturbed. 

Before she can say anything else, someone taps a glass with a spoon as they stand behind the podium used during press conferences, calling them all to attention. 

 

Sally disappears from his side, and Mycroft still feels like there is something wrong. 

He watches from the back of the room as Greg is called up to face the room full of slightly tipsy coworkers, and Mycroft feels an incredible sense of pride rush through him. 

His heart stutters worryingly when he sees Greg search the crowd, to meet his own eyes, before smiling in his direction before starting his speech. 

There are curious glances thrown in Mycroft’s direction, but Mycroft doesn’t notice, he’s so focussed on Gregory. 

 

“ _He knows this?”_

Mycroft hears Sally’s voice echo in his mind, and feels a tug in his chest. 

Surely, Mycroft has said it in so many ways, so many times? 

Sometimes, words seem redundant and unworthy of Gregory Lestrade, which is why Mycroft doesn’t say those three words too often. 

A large part of him feels that they will never really express just how much Greg means to him. 

Another part of him is afraid of saying ‘I love you’ so much that it becomes automatic, and lacks any sentiment whatsoever. 

However, Greg says it to him all the time and not once does it ever lose its magic or meaning. Mycroft always replies with something like ‘and I you.’

So in theory, it’s not as though he goes weeks without saying it, he just doesn’t say the exact words  _i love you_ perhaps as much as he should. 

 

Mycroft’s eyes meet Greg’s again across the room, and he listens to Greg’s voice. 

Mycroft tries to show his feelings as often as he can, sometimes it is restricted to their private surroundings at home, but sometimes it can be public. 

Such as Mycroft making Greg’s morning coffee just before the other man’s alarm rings. 

Simply being there when Greg wakes up, or when Greg gets home from a particularly difficult case.

Arriving at Greg's office with lunch or a coffee, a myriad of ways.

Physical touch is another tactic Mycroft relies on; hands on hands, his fingers tracing Greg’s jawline, his laughter lines, and finding each other’s warmth constantly. 

They make love often, and Mycroft hopes that his breaths, moans, and actions also convey his utter love and adoration for the other man. 

His chest aches at the thought of Greg not knowing the extent of his feelings. 

He had once been called the ice man, but he was certain he had thawed for Gregory, and Gregory alone. 

He was more in touch with his emotions during the past two years than he had been all his life. 

All of this due to Greg, _his_ Gregory.

 

A round of applause abruptly pulls Mycroft away from his thoughts, as he moves to clap along with the room of strangers. 

His heart is about ready to burst with pride, and he watches Greg get his photos taken for the press with the longing to be able to touch the other man in public. 

Instead, his fingers tighten around the stem of his champagne glass, watching in silence. 

Different words flutter through his mind, things he wants to say, things he wants Greg to know. 

 

Mycroft has begrudgingly been dragged into a conversation with a trainee from the drugs squad when he feels his phone vibrate in his trouser’s pocket, he excuses himself with perhaps more enthusiasm than he has shown throughout the whole mundane conversation. 

 

_Leaving in 10. I’ll meet you in the car. G x_

 

Mycroft discovers that he is smiling at the screen and blushes slightly. 

He raises his head and catches Greg’s eye from the other side of the room. His silver fox nods once, which to the people in front of him could be interpreted as to do with their current conversation. 

Mycroft feels a certain warmth and satisfaction in knowing that it was only for him. 

He briefly scans the room for Sally, in order to say goodbye but he cannot see her. He carefully avoids further conversation and heads towards the car park. 

While the people in the room have most likely seen Greg in Mycroft’s company, it would always have been construed as a working relationship. Which is why they cannot leave the party together, because that would be seen as something entirely different and it was too dangerous, even though it pained Mycroft deeply. 

Appearances had to be kept and carefully maintained. 

 

He reaches the familiar car with a sense of relief and taps the tinted window for the driver to let him in. He feels some of the tension drain from his body when he sits down on the comfortable leather, the car pleasantly warm. 

“Where to?” The voice of his driver startles Mycroft, but outwardly he remains calm. 

“Home. Gregory will be along soon.” 

He sees his driver smile kindly at him in the rierview mirror. “Of course, Sir.” and just like that, he pushes the button to raise the divider between them and leaves Mycroft in a grateful silence. 

 

Mycroft waits anxiously, scrolling through his emails in an attempt to keep himself distracted and make the time go quicker. 

It works, because it seems like it’s been no time when he hears the car door open while he was trying to decode a Russian email. 

He quickly turns off his phone and places it in his pocket, a pleasant warmth spreading through him as he watches Greg slip into the car and shut the door. 

“Hello, love.” Greg’s voice is light, his eyes bright as they meet Mycroft’s across the space between them. He tugs his black tie open and unbuttons the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt. “Finally, I can bloody breathe again.” 

Mycroft is briefly taken aback by the laugh that slips past his lips and it is so worth it, when he sees Greg’s resulting smile. 

“You looked incredible.” Mycroft slides his hand across the seat to grasp Greg’s warm hand. 

Greg’s eyes light up, and slides across the seat so that he is pressed against Mycroft. He gently pulls on Mycroft’s tie to draw their lips together. 

The kiss starts slow, and Mycroft moves to caress Greg’s face. Greg is nearly in his lap by the time they break the kiss for air and Mycroft closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Greg’s.

 

As London passes by the windows, they only breathe in each other’s air. Greg’s fingers trace soothing circles along Mycroft’s back, suit jacket discarded. 

“Thank you for coming tonight, Myc.” Greg whispers, still sightly breathless, “It meant the world to me to be able to see you there.” 

Mycroft moves his head back in order to make eye contact with Greg, he gets lost in the other man’s eyes, before he blinks and smiles. 

“I love you, Gregory.” His voice is sincere and heavy, and Greg’s wide-eyed surprise quickly turns into a heartbreakingly beautiful smile and Mycroft cannot help himself, he immediately moves forward to catch Greg’s lips in a more urgent kiss. 

 

When the car comes to a stop outside their home, they quickly gather their jackets and leave the car, lips swollen from kissing, blood pumping in their ears.

When they close the front door behind them, Greg pushes Mycroft against it, his back pressed against the wood. 

Greg is smiling, it’s radiant, Mycroft thinks that Sally was wrong. 

It is Greg that puts the sun in Mycroft’s life. He is everything. 

Mycroft takes a ragged breath between kisses. “I love you.” He breathes, “You do know that, don’t you?” 

Greg’s resulting smile is enough to make Mycroft’s heart ache, from the way Greg holds him close, he knows that Greg has heard the vulnerability in the question. 

Greg carefully kisses Mycroft on the lips once, then on his cheek before he moves his head back to watch Mycroft. “Of course. I never doubted you for a second, love.” 

He pulls Mycroft into a gentle hug, pressing short kisses along Mycroft’s neck. 

“I love you. So much.” Mycroft’s voice is reduced to a whisper, and he feels Greg smile against his neck, where he still kisses softly.

“I love you too.” 

Mycroft feels a stray tear run down his cheek a moment too late, and when Greg raises his head to look at Mycroft, he carefully wipes the tear away before kissing the spot.

“Let’s go upstairs, love.” Greg takes Mycroft by the hand to lead him to their bedroom.

 

Mycroft says those three words countless times during the night, and he is relieved to find that not once do the words seem hollow or lose their sincerity. 

If they were the only three words he was allowed to say to Greg in the future, deep down he knows with a certain comfort that they will ring true each and every time.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired of course by that verse from Rupi Kaur. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr [here](http://lostallsenseofcontrol.tumblr.com/).


End file.
